Road Trip
by AiredaleLady
Summary: Following the break-up of Mystery Inc., Velma decides to take a break from work to visit her friend, Shaggy. But in the time that had passed, is either one the same person that the other remembers? Note the new rating and genre.
1. Farewell

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ROAD TRIP

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This one is for all of you who favor the Shaggy-Velma coupling and have been asking for such a story. It is rated PG-13 for a brief scene of drug use and some thematic content, although, I admit, it is rather tame for such a rating.. 

****

Chapter 1: Farewell 

The constellations in the late summer sky shone brightly that night, but for once, Velma Dinkley paid little interest to the stars; the events of the past few hours replayed constantly in her mind, distracting her from any other thoughts. The night had begun routinely enough; the gang had solved the case of a ghost haunting a toy factory and spoken to the media about their adventure. But following the interview, things had taken a horrible turn, ending in a fight that ultimately led to the untimely demise of Mystery Inc. And now that Fred and Daphne had left, the young woman found herself alone with Shaggy and his Great Dane, Scooby-Doo. "I can't believe it ended like this," she wept, softly. 

"Rah, re reither," uttered Scooby, echoing Velma's sentiments.

The skinny man put his arms around the younger girl, drawing her into a tight and reassuring embrace. "I know, Velms," he replied, patting her gently on the back. "Like, I can't believe it myself." 

The bespectacled girl shook her head. "And the worst part of it is, it is all my fault. If only I hadn't wanted credit for my plan, we'd still be friends with Fred and Daphne and we'd be…" Velma's speech trailed off, her last words lost in the sound of her sobs. 

Shaggy drew her closer, tightening his grip in the embrace; he felt both awkward and secure in his new role as the younger girl's confidante. In the past, it had been Daphne who had provided the emotional support for the younger girl; Shaggy had been somewhat of an older brother figure. But, since Daphne was no longer there, the skinny man knew that he now had to fulfill both roles; the younger girl's well being almost depended on it. "So, like, what are you planning to do now?" he asked. 

"My father knows someone who works for NASA who is looking for a research assistant; I was going to give him a call tomorrow." She paused, then looked up at shaggy. "What about you?" 

The skinny man shrugged. "I dunno, like, just chill out, I guess. I got a buddy out in California whom I haven't seen in quite sometime; I was thinking of paying him a visit." 

"And after that?"

Shaggy shook his head. "I really don't know. I'm not like you, Vel, I just go with the flow and live each day as it comes to me, you know, like they say, _carpe dentum_."

Velma managed a feeble smile at the sound of Shaggy's mistaken phrase. "That's _Carpe **DIEM**_, Shag," she gently corrected, then hugged him. A sudden wave of sadness swept over the young woman. "I'm gonna miss you, Shaggy," she wept, tightening her grip.

"Like, I'll miss you too, Vel," he softly replied, handing her a crumpled piece of paper. "The guy I'm going to see lives out in Santa Cruz. I dunno where I'll be, but, if you're ever in the area, like, feel free to look me up."

Velma nodded. "I'll do," she whispered. 

"And, if you can't find me, like, just look for the van. It'll probably stand out, even down there. 

The bespectacled girl smiled at the comment. 

A soft whimper broke the silence, and Velma felt a wet nose gently nudging her hand. "I'll miss you too, Scoob," she whispered, gently scratching the dog behind his ears.

Shaggy hugged the younger girl one last time. "So long, Vel," he whispered, "I'll miss you." 

Velma hesitated for a moment. "Shaggy," she blurted, looking at her friend through her tear stained glasses, "please." She threw her arms around the skinny man one last time, and gently kissed him on the lips. The pair savored the moment; although there was nothing romantically between them, the kiss carried the feelings of deep, devoted love. 

Shaggy hesitantly broke from the kiss. "I'll miss you, Vel," he whispered, as he turned to walk towards the van. 

Velma felt a lump forming in her throat, trembling, as she felt his hand withdraw from her grip. Slowly, she raised her hand, waving as she watched the van pull away from the curb. "Goodbye, Shaggy," she whispered, "I'll miss you." 

Unable to contain her emotions any longer, Velma burst out crying; the sound of her ragged sobbing echoed in the silence of the star-lit night. 


	2. To Each, Their Own

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Chapter 2: To Each Their Own

Shaggy drove the Mystery Machine down the winding, coastal highway, Scooby sticking his head out the window and enjoying the salty air. The California coastal ranges sat to one side of the car, while the other side was exposed to the ocean. The scenes alternated between towering redwoods and large, granite boulders. "Aaah," Shaggy announced, breathing in the fresh, coastal air. "The ocean breeze, nature's majesty and tons of Scooby Snacks. Like, this is hippie paradise, ain't it, Scoob?"

"Reah, raradise!" the Dane answered. 

Shaggy took another deep breath. He looked at the piece of paper he had received from his friend. "Let's see, now," he muttered, trying to keep his eyes on the road and read a map at the same time. "Like, the place is called the Redwood Shore camp; should be around here somewhere." The skinny man fumbled with the unruly document. "Like, if I could get the whole thing open at once, I might be able to read it." He fiddled with the map, finally opening it to its full size and plastering it against the windshield. "Ah, like, here we are, Redwood Shore Camp…it should be…right…here." For a brief moment, Shaggy's mind drifted back through the years, as he recalled how many times Velma had admonished him for not knowing how to properly read a map. 

"Raggy! Rook Out!" A loud, strident honk and a squeal of tires quickly brought the skinny man back to his senses. Startled, and more than a bit scared, he braked abruptly, sending the giant dog vaulting over the back seat and into the front passenger's seat. Regaining his composure, he steered the van off to the side of the road. "Like, maybe I should have pulled over before reading the map, eh Scoob?" 

The Great Dane rolled his eyes. "Roh, rother!" 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

At the NASA research center, Velma took a moment to stretch before returning to her work designing hydro-powered missile defense systems. The work was challenging, and Velma Dinkley loved a good scientific challenge, but her work had virtually become the center of her life. She often tired quickly, though, as a large part of her days was spent calculating formulas and running them through a computer. Finishing her stretch, here eyes fell upon a photo perched on top of her computer monitor—two men, two women and a large dog—the last group portrait of Mystery Inc. taken just before they had broken up. Velma sighed, nostalgically, recalling the many adventures she had shared with the gang; the laughter, the danger, the adventure, all gone because of her selfishness. The photo reminded her of her friends, and the bespectacled girl drifted into a daydream, wondering what the others were doing at that very moment. She hadn't heard from Daphne since the break up. Once, she had seen Fred in the lobby of a hotel, but the blond man had been so busy signing autographs and posing for pictures that he hadn't even noticed her. Ironically, though, it was not her close friends, Fred and Daphne, whom she missed the most, but rather, Shaggy, the latter day hippie and his Great Dane, Scooby-Doo. 

Velma secretly admitted that during her teenage years, she had harbored a crush on the lanky man; she liked his wit, his general demeanor and his kind, caring heart. Plus, Shaggy valued her as a person, not just as a walking encyclopedia. _Yes_, she thought to herself, _contrary to what the public thought, there were **two** sets of couples within Mystery Inc, not just one._ But unlike the relationship between her cohorts Fred and Daphne, Velma never publicly demonstrated her feelings for Shaggy; she didn't feel the need to be demonstrative nor to state her feelings outright. 

A faint smile played across her lips as she thought about the skinny man and his dog. She'd had other relationships since then, dating mostly her fellow scientists and engineers, but she didn't harbor the same feelings for them as she did for Shaggy. _I wonder what he's doing now_, thought Velma, before returning to her work. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Well, here we are, Scoob," Shaggy announced, as he pulled the van into a campsite, "Redwood Shores Campground. Isn't it, like, groovy?" 

"Reah, roovy," replied the Dane, "rots of rees." Shaggy grinned at his dog's comment. The campsite was nestled amidst a large redwood grove, less than three-quarters of a mile from the beach. The cool, ocean breeze carried the sounds and shouts of beach goers far beyond the campsite, into the woods and up into the mountains. 

"Now, all we gotta do it, like, find this guy," commented Shaggy.

No sooner had he spoken than he heard a voice from behind. "M' man, Shag," the visitor announced, placing a hand on the skinny man's shoulder. 

Shaggy whirled around to see who had spoken his name. In front of him stood another lanky hippie sporting a tie-dye tee shirt emblazoned with an iconic planet earth drawing. The man's tangled, matted hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving him an even more disheveled appearance than Shaggy's. "Benjster," Shaggy announced, "like, it's great to see you again." 

Benji's real name, of course, was Benjamin, but Shaggy had given him the nickname based on the man's resemblance to the canine movie star. Indeed, with his unshaven appearance and dirty blond hair, the other man bore a striking resemblance to the dog. "And this must be the famous Scooby-Doo," announced Benji, bending down to scratch the dog behind the ears. 

"Rats re," replied the dog, welcoming the scratches behind the ears. 

"C'mon, Shag," commented Benji, "bring the van and come meet the gang."


	3. These Are Trying Times

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Chapter 3: These are Trying Times

"Oh, man, like what a pad!" exclaimed Shaggy as he drove the van onto the campground premises. A number of late model trailers and VW vans formed a semi-circle around the site, effectively separating the encampment from the rest of the park. 

"It has all the comforts of home," announced Benji, "without the discomforts and inconveniences that usually come with living in a home, I might add." 

Shaggy surveyed the area, wide-eyed "Oh man, this is great! Like it already has a barbecue grill and picnic tables, just perfect for hosting a buffet that serves all my favorites—hamburgers marinated in chocolate syrup, sardine and marshmallow sandwiches, chocolate chicken casserole, with barbecued chicken, I might add…" 

Scooby licked his lips. "Mmm mmm. Relicious!" 

Shaggy parked the van beside a large redwood tree. "Hey everyone," Benji announced as he climbed out of the van. "I'd like you to meet "Shaggy" Rogers and his dog, Scooby-Doo. Shag's an old friend of mine, and he'll be staying with us for awhile." 

Benji turned to Shaggy. "Feel free to look around," he said, "this is your place now." 

"Like, thanks, man." Shaggy turned and glanced briefly at his dog. "Well Scoob, like, this is our new home. What'dya think, ol' buddy?" 

Scooby took a few exploratory sniffs at the air. "Ri rike it," he concluded, "rots of rees." He took another few sniffs, but ended with a questioning yip. A strange scent had reached his nose, one distinct from the salty air and ambient trees. He took another sniff, this time, deeper; the acrid odor turned his face turned green with nausea. "Ryech," he intoned, sticking out his tongue and clutching his stomach with his forepaws.

"Like, what's wrong with you, Scooby-Doo?" Shaggy asked, concerned. 

"Romething rells runny."

The pair turned in the direction of the smoke. A wild looking man with stringy, gray hair and bloodshot eyes sat on a tree stump; a curtain of smoke emanating from his marijuana joint enveloped him in a thin haze. The man was strumming a guitar and singing an off key rendition of "The House of the Rising Sun;" he stopped singing only long enough to take a puff on the marijuana cigarette that he clenched in his teeth. Resuming his singing, his voice cracked on a high note, startling Shaggy and Scooby. 

"Zoinks!" Shaggy shrieked, jumping backwards, "like, who's that?"

Benji looked at his craven companion. "Relax, Shag. That's just Savage Jack."

"Ravage Rack?" echoed Scooby.

"No, Savage Jack. He's been here longer than any of us—34 years, to be exact—but he's sort of an outsider. He lives in his own little world, half the time he's so whacked out that he doesn't even know what year it is." Benji laughed as he made his next comment. "He still thinks it's the summer of 1968."

Aware that he was being watched, Jack put down his guitar and approached Shaggy. Scooby uttered a low growl, raising his lip just enough to reveal a few teeth. "And who are you?' he asked, in an affected, raspy voice. 

"That's Shaggy," Benji replied, monotonously, in an unsuccessful attempt to brush off the drug influenced man. "He'll be staying with us for awhile."

"Pleased," said Jack, then returned to his joint and guitar. "**_There's a house out in New Orleans, they call the Rising Sun…"_**

More than happy to leave the crazy man alone, Shaggy and Scooby walked back to the van. "Like, what was with the teeth, man?" Shaggy asked his dog. 

Scooby growled softly. "R'I don't rike r'him."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Taking a much needed break from her work, Velma allowed her eyes to drift towards the photo perched atop her computer monitor, a photo of herself surrounded by her now ex-cohorts from Mystery Inc. Somehow, the very act of seeing her teenaged self had a calming effect on her frayed nerves. _Those were the days,_ she sighed to herself, as she drifted slowly into a nostalgic reverie, recalling the many adventures she had shared with her friends. 

"Ms. Dinkley?" 

The sound of a formal address abruptly roused the young woman from her nostalgic daydream. "Doctor Harrison," Velma exclaimed, caught of guard by her supervisor's unexpected appearance. 

"Ms. Dinkley, may I have a word with you? In private?"

Velma slowly lifted herself out of her chair and turned to face the older man. 

"Ms. Dinkley, you have been doing exceptional work here for the past four months."

"Thank you, sir," the young woman replied. 

"For one so young, you are extremely insightful and intellectually gifted. You take great pride in your work--and rightfully so—it is rare that we find people like yourself in this company."

The bespectacled girl nodded, pleased by all the accolades she was hearing, but not quite certain how to receive them. "Well, Ms. Dinkley," the senior man continued, "we have been awarded the defense department contract, and would like to designate you as the project leader."

"Me?" she asked, both stupefied and elated at once, "jinkies, I…I'm honored."

Dr. Harrison grinned assertively at the young girl. "You were the only one we ever considered for the position; you will begin work on the project tomorrow." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

__

Jinkies, what a day, Velma groaned as she trudged up the stairs to her apartment. _Whoever thought that being a project leader would be so much work?_Lightening the moment, she thought to her self, _Fred sure made it look easy_. Pausing by the door, she retrieved her mail, then threw it on the kitchen table. Bills…department store sale ads…the latest issue of _Popular Science_…more bills…Nestled amidst the myriad of junk mail was a small, letter size envelope. The envelope was yellowed, as though it had been exposed to the elements for a long time, yet it was postmarked only a few days earlier. Her whole body trembled with excitement as she caught sight of the postmark: Santa Cruz, California. Eagerly, she tore open the envelope, and read the letter. 

**_Dear Vel_**, she read. **_Hey, how are things going at NASA? Scoob and me, we're living the good life out in beautiful Santa Cruz, groovin' to sound of the ocean and just enjoying the sand which is there (get it?). Scoob and me started a business selling pottery made from sand and sea shells. It's nice out here, but, like, I still wish you were here with me. Took this shot a few days ago; the only things missing from my side are you and a giant, chocolate covered sardine and marshmallow sandwich. _**

Velma smiled as she looked at the enclosed photograph, the lanky man and his dog, both sporting John Lennon style sunglasses and holding their respective fingers and paws in a "peace" sign. Theirs looked to be the epitome of an idyllic lifestyle—no deadlines, no high expectations for large scale projects, no cares, whatsoever—a lifestyle 180 degrees removed from her own. 

**__**

Well, like, I gotta jam; the gang is calling me. Licks from Scoob and a mouth full of Scooby Snacks from me, Shaggy. 

Reaching the end of the letter, the young woman proceeded to reread it, as if in an attempt to get closer to the writer. Shaggy always had a way with words, but those words just didn't come across on paper as well as they did in person. Velma sat down at the kitchen table, preparing to reply, but to her dismay, Shaggy had not provided a return address; disappointed, she put the letter aside and focused her attention on the rest of the mail. 

Exhausted from the hard day at work, Velma retired without fixing dinner. As she crawled into bed, she took one final glance at the photograph. "Goodnight, Shag. I'll see you again, someday," she whispered, before turning out the light and drifting off to sleep. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Come and get it!" Shaggy called, standing beside the barbecue. "We have hot dogs, with chocolate dipping sauce, grilled egg plant burgers marinated in jalepeno salsa, and the requisite condiments—chocolate syrup, marshmallow syrup, strawberry syrup and relish."

Benji shot Shaggy a dirty look. "Shaggy," he scolded. "Ever since you arrived here, the only things you've ever cooked are those disgusting meals that only you can stomach. Give us a break, man and cook something normal for a change."

The lanky man shrugged. "Like, this **is** normal," he objected. 

Benji and the others turned their backs to the pair; Shaggy sighed, despondently. "Like, I guess I never realized how good the gang had treated us." 

Scooby looked sympathetically at his owner. "Reah, I riss them."

"Yeah, Scoob," echoed shaggy, taking a bite of the eggplant burger. "I miss them too." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

**__**

Velms, Miss you a lot. When can I see you again? You can come out and we can share time maybe other things too. Time passes on; hope to see you before you fade and we both forget. 

Not only had the letters gotten shorter, but they arrived with less frequency, too. Velma's eyes teared as she read the most recent one; there was something very disconcerting about its style. In the past, Shaggy's letters had been written in a manner that resembled his speech pattern; this particular letter, though, did not contain a single "like," a single joke or a single food reference. It was almost as if this letter had been written by someone else, someone who knew nothing about Shaggy's true character. 

Even more disquieting was the last line. What did it mean "before you fade and we both forget?" Shaggy? Forget about her? She couldn't imagine it even being possible. Velma read the letter several times, but the rereads only added to the questions in her mind. If Shaggy didn't write that letter, then who did? What happened to Shaggy? Why would he stop writing? The uncertainty surrounding those questions frightened the young woman more than anything else ever did. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Ms. Dinkley—I'd like an update on the progress of the new missile defense shield design." 

Velma growled silently to herself. After all the years of hanging around with Fred, she was used to taking orders, but nothing could have prepared her for the rigors of heading such an important project. "Yes, Doctor Harrison, you'll have that in just a minute."

"And you have another design meeting in half an hour, I expect that this one will go a little more smoothly than the last one?" 

"Yes, I can assure you, it will."

"Ms. Dinkley…"

Velma screamed silently to herself. Ever since she was a little girl, she had wanted to work in the scientific realm, but she never imagined that the field would entail so many high stress situations. "I need a vacation," she muttered to herself, "maybe then I could approach my work with a much clearer mind." She thought about the prospect for a few minutes, then realized that there was only one place she wanted to go, a place that would be not only be stress free, but would allow her to tackle some of her own personal mysteries as well. _Santa Cruz, here I come,_ she muttered to herself, _that is, after I get out if this meeting. _


	4. Unexpected Reunion

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Chapter 4: Unexpected Reunion

The early afternoon sun shone brightly in the sky, warming the Santa Cruz coast side to a balmy seventy degrees. A soft, ocean breeze kept the temperature just warm enough for a day at the beach, but also cool enough to render heatstroke an impossibility. "Now _this_ is a low stress environment," declared Velma, as she reclined in the beach chair she had brought with her. "Just what I need to relax my mind and prepare for the week ahead." Adjusting her sunshades, she took a deep breath and gazed somewhat nostalgically at the scene in front of her. Her mind wandered momentarily as she recalled the many times she had spent at the beach with Fred, Daphne, Shaggy and Scooby, and how those seemingly innocuous beach trips always ended in some kind of bizarre mystery. _No chance of that happening here_, she thought to herself, then turned her attention to the copy of _Popular Science_ that she had brought with her. 

The only thing that bothered her was her wardrobe choice. Even Velma had enough fashion sense to know that a bulky turtle neck sweater would not be appropriate for a day at the beach; so she opted for an alternate top, an orange, three-quarter sleeve V-neck tee shirt that she had picked up on her last shopping trip with Daphne. Velma never liked how the shirt's low cut revealed more of her chest than she cared to show, but she bought the shirt, primarily to please Daphne whose idea it had been to try the thing on in the first place. The young girl never imagined herself wearing the shirt in public, and she had only packed it after hearing about the weather on the news the night before her departure. Secretly, she hoped that the forecast would be inaccurate and that she would not have to wear it, but now, here she was, lying on the beach wearing that shirt. And even though the low cut was not visible from the angle at which she was seated, she rested the magazine on her chest in an attempt to cover up what her shirt had missed. 

Velma closed her eyes and reclined in the chair, enjoying the feel of the sun upon her face and the occasional cool breeze that rustled her short, brown hair; the peaceful setting was exactly what she needed to soothe her frayed nerves. She drifted slowly into her own world, the warmth of the sun lulling her to sleep. 

**__**

Pass the duchie from the left hand side… A feedback- laced version of Bob Marley's song floated down the beach on the breeze, waking Velma from her nap. With a disgusted groan, she reached up and covered her ears, glancing in the direction of the music. _Jinkies, _she muttered to herself, _how rude—to think that the rest of us want to listen to their music!_ The bespectacled girl returned to her magazine, pretending to ignore the music, and failing miserably. _At least fix the feedback!_ she grumbled to herself. _I might actually be able to tolerate the music without that dreadful interference._

Almost as quickly as it began, the music stopped. Heaving a sigh of relief, Velma returned to her tanning and her magazine, satisfied that whoever had been blasting the music had the sense to turn it down. 

**__**

Hello, I love you won't you tell me your name? Oh, not again, groaned Velma. _Well, so much for a relaxing day at the beach, I'm going back to the hotel to sit by the pool; at least it's quieter there!_ Reluctantly gathering her belongings, she headed across the road to the dirt parking lot, but stopped just short of climbing into her car. Her detective's mind began cranking out numerous questions about the mysterious and annoying tunes—where was the music coming from? What was going on? And who on earth would listen to such disparate musical genres? Surely the revelers could hear the feedback for themselves, then why wouldn't they correct it? She had to learn the answers to those questions, and the only way to find out was to do a little investigating. Following her ears, she began walking in the direction of the discordant music, leaving the beach behind her and crossing into a wooded area. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Velma positioned herself behind the thick trunk of a redwood tree, close enough to observe the scene, yet far enough away to not be noticed. A thin curtain of hazy smoke hung over the area, as though deliberately obscuring the group that had created it. The young girl squinted, partly to keep the smoke out of her eyes, and partly to see the scene more clearly. Through the haze, she could discern a semi-circle of late model VW vans and several human figures. Numerous scroungy looking dogs wandered among the revelers, some pausing to accept food. _A modern day hippie commune_ she surmised, but she couldn't help feeling that something was odd about the scene in front of her. 

A large, brown mastiff wandered in and out of the various humans. Unlike the other dogs in the commune, the mastiff appeared well fed and well cared for, and Velma wondered what this purebred dog was doing among the numerous stray mongrels. 

The brown mastiff sat down alongside a tall, lanky hippie, and Velma concluded that the skinny man was the dog's owner. The man and his dog did not participate in the obviously drug-influenced revelry, preferring instead to observe it from a distance. The man listened to the music, tapping his foot and snapping his fingers, uttering a "yeah" every so often. Even the dog seemed to enjoy the festivities, bobbing its head in time to the music. 

Velma focused for a long time in the man and his dog, wondering if Shaggy and Scooby were perhaps enjoying a similar lifestyle in some other part of the city. _Come to think of it, _Velma thought, _they **DO** look somewhat like Shag and Scooby. _The skinny man spun around, dancing to the music, allowing Velma to catch a quick glimpse of his face. Although she could not clearly see him, she smiled at the stranger's resemblance to Shaggy. 

A sudden, pounding headache woke the young girl from her daydream. _Odd,_ she mused to herself,_ I wonder what could be bringing on this migraine?_ Instinctively, though, she knew the answer to her own question. A few sniffs at the ambient air confirmed her suspicions; the air was filled with the unmistakable odor of burning marijuana. Velma made a sour face. _Ick,_ she coughed to herself, fanning the air and covering her mouth. _No wonder those people had no idea about the feedback on their sound system—they were probably completely oblivious to it. _Momentarily ignoring the disgusting smoke, she turned her attention back to the man and his dog. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The mastiff paused for a moment; a strange, yet familiar scent had reached his nose. Sniffing the air, he turned to the man and uttered a questioning grunt. 

"Hey, buddy, like what'cha got?" 

"R'ome one's r'here." The dog sniffed the air again, attempting to confirm the source of the scent; his expression brightened as he yelped excitedly, "Rit's Relma!" 

"Velma?" the hippie asked, doubtfully. "Scoob, I think all that smoke is getting to you."

The dog shook his head vigorously. "Ruh ruh. R'it's Relma. R'I row it." The dog put his nose to the ground, walking in circles, trying to pick up the scent. 

The tall man watched his dog's odd behavior. "Like, why don't we go walk along the beach, okay buddy?" he suggested, but the dog paid no heed. "Scoob? Scooby?"

The dog's body stiffened into a "point" position. After holding the position for several seconds, he turned back to his owner. "Rollow re," he ordered. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Velma coughed a few times. The acrid smoke burned her eyes, causing them to tear and further blurring her vision. _That's it,_ she muttered to herself. _I better get out of here before I kill off all my brain cells! _She turned to leave, but with her teary eyes, failed to see the dead tree stump in front of her. Tripping over it, she lost her balance and went flying forward, landing face down in a pile of pine needles, the force of the impact knocking her glasses from her face.

_Nice going, Dinkley_, she chided herself. _Looks like Daphne's klutziness rubbed off on you_. Velma lifted her head to survey the surrounding, but the environs were a blur without the corrective lenses. Dropping to her hands and knees, she began crawling along the forest floor, her sense of touch taking over for her temporary loss of sight. "My glasses," she whined, continually pawing the ground. "I can't see without my glasses." 

_Crunch. Crack_. She stopped abruptly as she heard the sound of approaching footfalls upon the leaves. She glanced quickly to all sides of her, but it was no use; everything was a blur without her glasses. 

_Crunch…crack_. Her sense of hearing told her that whoever or whatever was approaching was closer now. Nearly frozen by terror, she still managed to get to her knees, putting her arms up in front of her face, as if to say, _don't hurt me._

"Velma, is that you?"

The stunned girl carefully brought herself to a standing position. "Shaggy?" she asked, in disbelief, brushing the pine needles and wet leaves from her clothes. 

"Like, I believe these are yours, man," said the figure, handing the young woman her glasses. Gratefully receiving the spectacles, she placed them on her face and confirmed the identity of the man in front of her. 

The nickname seemed more appropriate now than ever before. The man's sandy brown hair had grown into a scraggly looking mane, which he kept tied back in a matted pony tail. And while he still sported his trademark V-neck tee shirt and bell bottom jeans, both were worn and dirty from exposure to the elements. 

Velma gaped incredulously at the wild looking man in front of her. She could scarcely believe that the disheveled hippie figure had once been such a close friend. A wave of conflicting thoughts suddenly began coursing through the young girl's mind. Her rational side informed her that this man was potentially dangerous and that she should back away; yet another side insisted that the man meant no harm and that this figure was really Shaggy—_her_ Shaggy—under the guise of a hippie drifter. Velma stood motionless, assessing the situation; the other man seemed to do the same. After several long minutes, Velma took a tentative step towards the man, followed by another, this time with more confidence. With each successive step, the initial shock and fear melted away, and the young woman launched herself at the other man, her arms outstretched to receive him in an embrace. "Shaggy," she whispered softly, leaning against his chest and crying, "I can't begin to say how much I've missed you." 

Shaggy fingered the girl's short, pixie haircut, plucking out the remaining pine needles. "Like, I've missed you too, Velms," he whispered, gently caressing her hair and running his hand down her cheek; her skin was soft and warm, unlike that of the other woman he had seen since entering the commune. 

"Raowr?" Velma felt a cold nose nudge against her leg. Keeping one arm around Shaggy, she reached down and gently scratched the Dane behind his ears. "Oh, I've missed you too, Scooby-Doo," she cooed, softly. 

"Re roo." 

Velma smiled, nostalgically, the dog's "words" bringing back a flood of memories. The dog hadn't changed, surely he never would, but his owner? Velma was not so sure. 

Shaggy hesitantly released the girl from the embrace_. She's still the same Velma,_ he mused to himself, _and she'll probably never change_, _but, like, is she ready to see how I have been living for these past few months? _Shaggy did not know the answer to that question, and wasn't so sure if he wanted to. _But, like, there is only one way to find out. _"Come on, Vel," he urged, taking her hands. "I'll introduce you to the gang." 


	5. Unwelcome Advances

****

Chapter 5: Unwelcome Advances

"**_They'll stone you when you're walking to your home…." _**Savage Jack sat on a tree stump, singing Bob Dylan's "Rainy Day Women 12 and 35." As usual, he was singing off-key, his musical sensibilities, if any, masked by the effect of the narcotic smoke that encircled him.

**__**

They'll stone you when you're all alone

Everybody must get stoned. 

Jack stopped singing just long enough to take a puff on the marijuana joint that he held in his teeth. Turning to exhale the smoke, he spotted Shaggy walking past. Initially ignoring him, Jack returned to his guitar, repositioning his fingers on the instrument's neck. 

**__**

Well, they'll stone you when you're… Jack stopped abruptly in the middle of a phrase as he caught sight of Velma. Truthfully, it was hard **_not_** to notice her, for her bright orange shirt made her stand out quite prominently from the earthen tones of the forest. Abandoning the guitar, Jack fixated his gaze on the woman, tracing over every curve in her body with his beady, bloodshot eyes. The longer he stared at her, the stronger his lust for her grew. 

Aware that someone was watching her, Velma slowly turned her head, hoping to discover and to dissuade the admirer. Realizing that the woman was watching him, Savage Jack responded with kissing noises and puckered lips. Velma shot the older man a cold glare, frowning in disgust at his flirtatious gestures. _Jinkies,_ she muttered to herself, _I sure attract some strange characters_. She shrugged off the man's amorous gestures, silently wondering what might have provoked them. Walking past one of the vans, she noticed very disconcerting in the side view mirror; a wave of self consciousness swept over her as she realized that she was not wearing her bulky, turtle neck sweater, but the low-cut, V-neck tee shirt that she found overly revealing. _No wonder he's staring at me,_ she concluded, uneasily, _I'm practically showing myself off in this get-up!_

Jack could contain his lust for the girl no longer. Putting down his guitar, he staggered towards Velma, cooing in the suavest voice he could muster in his mind-altered state. "Hi'ya sweetie. What'cha doin?" 

Velma ignored the man, folding her arms coldly across her chest and shooting him a disapproving glare. Instinctively, though, she knew that she had to be careful. With his mind altered by the narcotic smoke, there was no telling what the crazed hippie might do next.

Jack intensified his advances, his voice taking on a deeper, almost sinister tone. "I said, what'cha doin' girl? You deaf as well as blind?" 

Recognizing the change in the man's voice, Velma stepped surreptitiously behind Shaggy. She did not want to present herself as a weak natured girl, but she knew that she could not face the other man alone. 

"Answer me, goddamn you!"

The harshness of his words and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down Velma's spine. And although her stoic expression belied it, deep inside, she was frightened by the drug-influenced hippie's actions. 

As if detecting her need for protection, Shaggy attempted to reason with the older man. "Woah, Jack, like chill out, man," he urged, "you're scaring her." 

Savage Jack spun around and glared at the skinny hippie. "Back off, Shaggy!" he growled, "this is between me and that girl!" 

He clenched his teeth together and began breathing heavily, gaze still fixating on Velma. The bespectacled girl too stepped backwards, stopping only when she felt the pressure of a branch against her back. She glanced furtively behind her and realized in horror that she could go no further, her path blocked by a large redwood tree. 

Even in his mind altered state, Jack recognized an opportunity when he saw one. He closed in on Velma, his eyes fixating on her chest and breasts. Extending a bony, callused finger, he touched the underside of her chin. "You're a pretty one," he cooed, pressing his face closer to Velma's, "I like pretty girls like you." 

The young woman recoiled in disgust at the scent of Jack's marijuana laced breath, rubbing up against the thick redwood tree trunk in an attempt to escape the drug crazed transient. 

"I said leave her alone," persisted Shaggy, now fearful of her well being.. 

With a primal grunt, Jack lunged at Shaggy, cold cocking the lanky man squarely on the jaw. Stunned by the blow, the younger man dropped to the ground and lay motionless on a pie of pine branches. 

Velma stared in horror at the scene in front of her. "Shaggy!" she cried, both in horror and in shock, her cry, and Scooby's howls echoing throughout the campground. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Savage Jack stared at Shaggy's motionless form, taking a few moments to gloat over his work. Satisfied that he had put Shaggy out of commission, he turned his attention back to Velma, sidling up to her and running his hands along the contour of her body. "Now that I need not worry about him, it's just me…and you." 

Velma squirmed in the older man's grip; the more she squirmed, the tighter his grip became. Jack pinned the girl's hands behind her back. "Why do you resist, doll?" he asked, "I know what you want, because I want it too." Savage Jack pressed his body against Velma's. "Tell me you can give me what I want," he moaned, putting his bony hand down the collar of her shirt and overtly caressing her breasts. A wave of horror swept over Velma as she realized what Savage Jack was about to do to her. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Raggy! Raggy, rake up!" 

The skinny man slowly opened his eyes, holding a hand to his forehead in an attempt to stem the painful throbbing. "Oooh, man" he groaned, slowly hoisting himself back to a vertical position, "like that was totally ungroovy." 

Scooby wasted no time in giving his owner the latest developments. "Raggy, relp! Relma's in rouble!" 

"Velma?" Shaggy asked. The mention of the girl's name was enough to bring the man back to a fully conscious state. "Zoinks!" he shrieked as the caught sight of the struggle taking place only yards away from him. "Like, we gotta save her." 

Coming up with a rescue plan was not one of Shaggy's strong suits; in truth, in all his years with Mystery Inc., he had never actually planned a rescue attempt; that duty always fell to Fred or Velma. But he knew now that he had little choice; Velma's well being, for that matter, her life, could depend on his course of action. "Okay, Scoob," he announced, his mind reeling, "like, let's get with it. I'll distract Jack, and you attack him."

"R'okay."

Shaggy pulled himself to a full, standing position, but the expended energy was too much for his weakened body. His head still pounding from Savage Jack's blow, he sat back down on the ground and held a hand to his pounding forehead. "Looks like it's up to you, buddy," he muttered, slightly in despair. Pointing in the direction of the fight, he ordered, "Go get 'im, Scooby, go save her!"

Without a moment's hesitation, the Great Dane shot forward, rushing to the aid of the girl. 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Disguised as a pile of redwood branches, Scooby watched the struggle between Velma and the older hippie. 

Jack restrained the younger girl, but not before she managed a kick to his shins. His eyes red with wanton craziness, he roared, "Now, you'll give me what I want, damn you, even if I have to force you to give it to me!" 

Her spirit nearly broken, Velma closed her eyes and lay still, resigned to her fate. 

"What the?…Holy Shit!!" Jack's cry of shock snapped Velma back to her senses. She looked up just in time to see a large brown and black form shoot out from behind a pile of tree branches and sink its teeth into the older man's groin. "Ow, damn it!" Overcome by the pain, Jack released Velma, concentrating his energies on dislodging the dog from his most sensitive area. 

Velma Dinkley wasted no time in getting to her feet and regaining her composure. She glared at her former assailant, who was conspicuously trying to hide his discomfort after the attack. "I know what you want from me," she sneered, sarcastically, "but the only thing you are going to get is a Dinkley fist sandwich." Putting up her fists, she decked Savage Jack squarely in the jaw. With a meek groan, he doubled over in pain and passed out at her feet. 

Satisfied with her work, Velma rubbed her hands together and grinned assertively. "That's what you get for trying to take advantage of Velma Dinkley!"

* * * * * * * * ** * * ** *

Velma walked over to Shaggy and knelt beside the older man. "You okay, Shaggy?" she asked, helping him to his feet. 

Shaggy rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, like I'm okay." He turned in the direction of the fight. "Oh, man, like I didn't know you had it in you."

Velma grinned, wordlessly answering his question. 

The skinny man took her hands, gratefully. "Come on, Vel," he said, "As Fred would say, 'let's get out of here.'" 


	6. Decisions and Dilemmas

****

Chapter 6: Decisions and Dilemmas

Shaggy and Velma strolled along the water's edge, holding hands like a seasoned couple; the giant Great Dane bounded playfully alongside, his large paws splashing in the waves. Every so often, he would drench the two humans with an unintentional cascade of water, and after each time, he would draw back, a look of guilt crossing his furry his face as he awaited the reprimand from his master. Shaggy, of course, didn't scold his dog; instead, the lanky man and his girlfriend laughed at Scooby's uncharacteristically playful antics. Relieved at the sound of their laughter, the Great Dane soon joined in their merriment, only to repeat the whole cycle a few moments later. 

From the far end of the beach, the happy sounds from the boardwalk amusement park drifted on the breeze, eliciting a nostalgic smile as they reached Velma's ears. "Remember those afternoons we used to spend at Funland with the gang?" she mused, dreamily. 

Shaggy concurred. "Yeah, and like, those nights on the beach, digging for clams." 

"Ryuck!" offered Scooby, sticking out his tongue, disgusted by the thought of the one food that he never liked. 

"So, like, whadd'ya think, Velms? Sun, the sand, the ocean breeze gently rustling your hair, isn't it great out here?"

The petite brunette nodded. "It is," she replied, wistfully, her mind momentarily drifting off. "So peaceful." Then her tone grew serious. "Shaggy, why **_did_** you come out here?" she asked.

The hippie shrugged; even he didn't know the answer to that question. "I dunno. I guess I just wanted to get away from society for awhile; you know, like, to find myself and to live my own life."

Velma shook her head. "I didn't mean it that way, Shaggy," she clarified, "I meant why did you come all the way out to California? There are lots of places closer to home that are just as beautiful."

Shaggy adopted an uncharacteristically serious tone. "You know, I never really fit in back home."

Velma swallowed a lump in her throat as she pondered the implications of the comment. "But why, Shag?" she asked, a tinge of sorrow detectable in her voice, "we were best friends—all of us—we never thought there was anything unusual or strange about you."

"I know. But even when I was with you guys, I sometimes felt that Scooby and I were so different. And, since California is known as 'Hippie Haven,' I thought that I might, like, fit in here."

"Do you?" 

Shaggy pondered the girl's comment. Living out of the Mystery Machine in a commune that completely shunned the established society hadn't quite lived up to his expectations; yet, at the same time, it had brought with it a sort of satisfaction that the lanky man had never really known back home. 

"Is this really the type of existence that you want, "continued Velma, "living like a vagrant with a group of total strangers with whom you have nothing in common?"

"But. like, we **_do_** have things in common. We like nature, we live our own way, our existence is peaceful…" 

"I don't mean those kind of things, Shaggy; I mean, do you really want to live surrounded by people like that horrible drug addict who tried to rape me?" The recollection of Savage Jack's brutal action earlier in the day sent a shiver through Shaggy's lanky frame; he couldn't even find the words to respond to Velma's question. 

"If it's any comfort to you, Shaggy," Velma continued, "there was always one person in the gang who understood you, and that was me." 

Shaggy put his skinny arms around Velma's waist and held her, drawing her close to him until her head rested against his chest. In his arms, she felt so small, almost like a child, and she had seemed equally helpless earlier in the day; he tightened his grip on her, as though protecting her from any more harm. "Please, Shaggy," she whispered, almost tearfully, "come back."

The skinny man sighed as he pondered her comments. "Like, I'll think about it." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Velma sat down on the beach beside Shaggy, the cool, moist sand dampening her skirt; he placed his arm around her shoulder and scooted in closer until he flanked her side. Responding to the touch, the younger girl tilted her head and rested it gently against his shoulder. Wanting to be closer to him, she repositioned herself, settling in his lap and gently resting her head against his chest. She threw her arms around his neck and settled into his embrace. A feeling of total peace came over her, and the unpleasant experience of earlier that day just seemed to melt away in the presence of her old friend. 

Shaggy Rogers felt his face turn red. Was Velma actually openly showing her affection? It just didn't seem possible! They had snuggled before, as teens, and there had been times when, out of sheer fright, Velma had thrown her arms around his neck, but there had never been any emotion behind those gestures; Yet, now, here she was, nuzzling him in an uncharacteristic display of affection.. Perhaps it was because they were older, or perhaps it was because they had been apart for so long, but at this moment, Shaggy realized that the feelings he had long harbored for the younger girl were now being returned. The once unilateral relationship had now become mutual, and there was nothing perfunctory about the younger girl's gestures. 

With a contented sigh worthy of a baby, Velma settled comfortably into Shaggy's embrace and closed her eyes. The older man gently caressed her short, brown hair, savoring the feeling of the individual strands in his fingers. "I've missed you, Velma." 

The sensation of his fingers in her hair was lulling her to sleep; not since her toddler days had she felt such a gentle touch. "I've missed you, too, Shaggy," she whispered, almost dreamily, as her eyes closed and she drifted off to sleep. Shaggy wrapped his arms protectively around her, shielding her and coddling her. Confident that the younger girl would not hear him, he whispered softly, "I love you, Velma." 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sun had long since dropped below the horizon; the boardwalk amusement park had gone dark and a thick layer of coastal fog had begun to settle over the beach; the nighttime seaside air was chilly and a definite dampness could be felt. Having lived by the ocean for so long, Shaggy was used to such conditions; but the younger girl was clearly not accustomed to such cold, and the thin, low cut T-shirt she wore offered little protection from the night air. An occasional shiver ran through her frame, and she would reposition herself on the skinny man's lap, pulling her legs in close to her body to gain the maximum possible warmth. 

Shaggy continued to stroke her hair, the short, brown tresses now slightly dampened from the salty air and the coastal fog. He gently brushed a lock of hair out of the younger girl's face, eliciting a gentle moan of protest from the bespectacled girl. Never once waking, she repositioned herself in Shaggy's lap, the corners of her lips turning upwards in a smile, the very sight of which incited a smile from the older man. In sleep, Velma looked even younger than her years, so innocent, so sweet, so helpless. 

"Raggy?"

The sensation of a cold, wet nose against his face snapped the skinny hippie back to his senses. He turned to face his dog, but never once broke his embrace with the younger girl. 

"Raggy, rets ro. R'its reezing tout r'here." The Great Dane wrapped his front paws around his chest to emphasize his point. 

Shaggy gestured to Velma, asleep in his arms. "Like, I can't leave her, Scoob," he protested. "You can go back to camp if you want, but i'm staying right here."

Scooby pondered his master's comment. As a dog, he understood the virtues of loyalty and devotion. He had always known that dogs exhibited those traits, but this was the first time he had seen them exhibited by a human. "Raggy?" the dog persisted. 

He hated to wake her up, but gently roused her anyway. Drowsy and a little disoriented, the bespectacled girl mumbled, "Shaggy? Where am I?" 

The older man gently shushed her, reassuring her that she was safe. "Come, Vel," he urged, gently helping the girl to her feet, "there is someplace very special that I would like to show you." 

__

A/N Thank you so much for your patience, my fellow readers. I apologize for the long delay between chapters 5 and 6; this story just hit a brick wall for awhile, and my writing had to be put on hold for my "real" job. Thanks for your loyal following, and I look forward to reviews.


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